Unforgivable Kisses
by The Red Planet
Summary: AU, gen-fic. Petunia Dursley never finds Harry on her doorstep, because someone else has taken the baby. Harry grows up in a wizarding family - but his bliss won't last. No one in Hogwarts will be expecting this Harry, who has lost too much.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, Mercedes-Benz, BMW or Jaguar. No money is made through this story; I am writing purely for fun.**  
>Warnings: <strong>AU, language, minor(ish) character death, some serious Dumbledore bashing, milder Ron and Hermione bashing. Don't like, don't read.  
><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>This is my version of the "Harry is raised by a random wizarding family" plotline, based loosely on _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. _My Harry will be totally different from canon-Harry, so don't be surprised.

There will be **no** pairings in this story, as this one will cover no more than Harry's first year.  
>This first chapter may feel a bit rushed, for which I apologize. I did not want to write a novel on the first eleven years of Harry's life, so I cut out everything that is not of utmost importance. Once he gets to Hogwarts, time will start passing a <strong>lot<strong> more slowly.  
>(This is the only chapter whose title is the time period it covers. I wanted to make it clear from the start that this one will cover nearly ten years, and thus won't be too detailed, except for September 1.)<br>((Hopefully the title, whose meaning will become clear very soon, does not scare away potential readers.))

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><p><strong>Chapter One: November 1, 1981 – September 1, 1991<strong>

_November 1, 1981_

Aurora Caliga was on a late night stroll in the town of Little Whinging, in Surrey. It was a clear night, moonlight illuminating the street Aurora was currently walking on. She inwardly sneered at the lines of identical houses on either side of the street. She had never thought highly of Muggles, and this show of lack of imagination did nothing to improve her opinion. Each house was surrounded by a perfectly trimmed hedge, and on each yard stood some sort of an expensive car; Mercedes-Benz, BMW and Jaguar seemed to be the most popular makes. Although she was a pure-blood, Aurora knew quite a bit about Muggles – a fact that was not very appreciated in her social circles. Aurora's husband, Demetrius, however thought it was an advantage to be familiar with the most basic Muggle things. Due to these opinions, the two Caligas were looked down at by most of the other pure-blood families. Not that Aurora and Demetrius cared; they had long since learned that they would never be able to please everyone. Therefore, they had decided to follow their own path, regardless of what others said.

Suddenly, Aurora saw something moving on the doorstep of one of the identical houses. As she got closer, she realized it was no cat or dog – as she had first assumed - but a baby! Aurora hurried to the child, picking him up. There was a bundle of blankets near where the baby had been; he had apparently crawled out of them. There was also a letter in there. Aurora picked up the blankets, wrapping them around the little boy. The letter she placed in her robe pocket.

The boy had startling green eyes, and a tuft of jet black hair. He also had a very peculiar, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He stared at Aurora, his emerald eyes wide and innocent, clinging to her.

"I can't possibly leave you here, in November with only a couple blankets to keep you warm," she told the baby, forcing her fury out of her voice. It would not do to scare the poor boy. Who in Merlin's name could have been cruel enough to leave a defenceless and helpless baby on the doorstep of a random house, in _November_? If she ever found out, she was definitely going to give the person or people a piece of her mind! But now it was most important to get the boy away from the disgustingly tidy Muggle neighbourhood.

Instead of walking home, Aurora turned on her heel, Apparating away from Privet Drive.

)-(

_December 24, 1981_

Aurora and Demetrius were sitting in their roomy kitchen, waiting for their house-elves to prepare some dinner. The baby Aurora had brought to their home almost two months earlier was napping in the living room.

It had been a shock to read the letter that had been left with the baby on that doorstep. Both Aurora and Demetrius had found it extremely difficult to believe that someone as devoted to the Light as Albus Dumbledore would even consider leaving a one-year-old _Harry Potter_ on the doorstep of a _Muggle_ family. Yes, the Dursley woman may be little Harry's last living relative, but the two pure-bloods were more than sure that there was no such thing as a blood ward that would have kept the boy safe from the Dark Lord and his followers. And in any case, Aurora had often seen the Dursleys when she had visited the neighbourhood. Vernon Dursley was a walrus-like, overweight man who only cared about himself and his family. Petunia was completely under his thumb. Their son, Dudley, was a year older than Harry, and smothered with love by both of his parents. Should Harry have ended up in that household, Aurora was sure he would have had a very unpleasant childhood. The Dursleys were known for their hatred of all things out of the ordinary – accidental magic would surely have been enough for them to start abusing Harry.

It also seemed Dumbledore, in his supposedly infinite wisdom (not that the Caligas believed in the old wizard's greatness), had not bothered to check whether Harry had actually been taken in by the Dursleys. No one, apart from the Caligas themselves, seemed to know where Harry Potter was. The _Daily Prophet_ kept publishing articles about the boy's assumed whereabouts, but none of them had been even close to the truth. Apparently the Headmaster of Hogwarts had not told the public what he had done with the Boy-Who-Lived.

The letter Dumbledore had left with Harry had explained everything about James and Lily Potter's death, the protections cast around 4 Privet Drive and the danger Harry would be in when outside the wards. It also made clear that the old man thought Harry being Petunia's nephew would be enough reason for the Dursleys to adopt the boy.

Demetrius had voiced a question about what would have become of Harry Potter, had he been left to live with the Muggles. Aurora had not had a certain answer, but she had been sure it would not have ended well. A wizard living in a magic-hating Muggle family could hardly be ideal for the child. He would have learned nothing about his inheritance until his eleventh birthday, that much was certain. Plus James and Lily Potter had been exceptional students when still in school, and magically powerful, so it was more than likely Harry would turn out the same way - and thus his accidental magic would be quite strong.

Aurora and Demetrius had cherished the chance to raise Harry Potter, the boy who vanquished the Dark Lord, as their own. Although the Caligas had been among the Dark Lord's followers, they did not blame little Harry for their Master's disappearance. They knew it was impossible for the baby to have actually done something powerful enough to destroy the Dark Lord. The real reason was not clear to anyone, and probably would never be.

Now it was Christmas Eve, the second one in Harry's life. As he was only two years old, it would not be worth the time to attempt to make the following day unforgettable; the boy would not remember it when he grew up.

The adults had decided to ask Harry, once he was old enough to understand, whether he wished to be blood-adopted. The ritual would make him a member of the Caliga family, not only in name but also blood. It would a big decision, and not something to be done without the child's agreement.

)-(

_July 31, 1987_

It was Harry Potter's seventh birthday, and he was spending it with his family. Now, Harry knew his biological parents had been dead for years, and the Caligas had then taken him in, but he nevertheless consider Aurora and Demetrius his family. For that reason, he had agreed to be blood-adopted to the Caliga family when he had been asked about it. Harry had no memory of James and Lily Potter, so the decision had not been difficult. Aurora and Demetrius had treated him better than he could have imagined, but he was far from spoiled. In other words, Harry Potter was a perfectly ordinary boy, if one did not consider his past or the scar on his forehead. Harry knew all about his fame, and had already come to dislike it. He found it annoying when total strangers stopped to stare at him when he was walking around the neighbourhood. On more than one occasion he had had to actually run to get away from overly enthusiastic admirers.

So, for his seventh birthday Harry Potter got a very special gift; an official new family. The adoption ritual made Aurora and Demetrius into Harry's legal guardians, taking that right from the Dursleys. In addition, his new parents took him Diagon Alley, to an Ocularist. Harry's vision had gotten worse and worse over the years, and the elder Caligas decided it was time to fix the problem; Harry had began to have trouble in his everyday life.

Instead of glasses, Aurora and Demetrius paid for a rather expensive operation, which fixed Harry's vision through magical means. The effect was permanent, hence the high cost. Harry was glad he would not have to wear glasses, as he was sure they would only be a nuisance. Besides, he rather liked his bright green eyes, and did not want to hide them behind lenses and frames.

After the family returned from London, Harry was happy beyond words, and his huge smile refused to fade for days. His parents started to teach him some magic, wanting to prepare him for Hogwarts. There was no question about Harry's name being down in the school's list, as he was definitely magical. His accidental magic had caused quite a few accidents, though nothing dangerous. Harry could not wait to finally have some control over his magic. Going to Hogwarts sounded like a dream come true, and the next four years felt like a century.

)-(

Harry's eighth Christmas was unforgettable for two reasons: it was his first Christmas as a Caliga, and one of his presents was a real pet. She was a beautiful Snowy Owl, and Harry instantly fell in love with her. He named her Hedwig, after a famous owl he had heard stories about. His parents found the name very fitting. Hedwig seemed to take an immediate liking to the entire family, but especially Harry. He was more than happy to get his first friend. Harry had not bothered getting to know other children in the neighbourhood, simply because they always stared at his scar, which he now hated. Harry did not want to associate himself with people who were only interested in him because of his fame. Aurora and Demetrius approved of his decision, despite hoping at least _one_ of the other children would approach Harry simply because they liked him as a person, not as a hero.

)-(

Just prior to Harry's ninth birthday his life was turned completely upside-down.

According to the _Prophet_, Aurora and Demetrius Caliga had confronted Albus Dumbledore on their son's behalf, although the details were not known. When Dumbledore had disagreed with the Caligas, they had lost their patience and attempted to hex the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore had fought back, and the confrontation had soon turned into a serious fight. In the end, Demetrius Caliga had cast a curse that was not lethal but still considered Dark, at which point a team of Aurors had arrived at the scene. That had ended the fight; two against eleven was so unfair that the Caligas had given up. However, due to their status as followers of the Dark Lord, and the single Dark curse, they had been arrested and tried in front of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore, who held the position of the Chief Warlock, had not remained neutral, and the Caligas had been given life sentences in Azkaban. They had not gone quietly, though, but instead verbally attacked Dumbledore, who had attempted to doom their son into ten years of misery. The Chief Warlock had promptly dismissed the accusations, and considered them an attack against the Wizengamot in general. As a consequence, the Caligas' sentence had been upped; instead of spending the rest of their lives in Azkaban, they would receive a Dementor's Kiss.

At that point Harry had stopped reading the article, and thrown the newspaper in the lit fireplace. He knew perfectly well what a Dementor's Kiss was, having both read and heard about it. It was the ultimate sentence in the Wizarding World; getting one's soul sucked out was considered even worse than death.

Based on what he had heard from his parents, and the newspaper article Harry determined Albus Dumbledore was the sole reason his parents would be essentially destroyed. Not even killed, but destroyed. And that was something Harry considered unforgivable. He swore never to forgive Dumbledore, but instead do his best to cause the man harm. Once he would get to Hogwarts, it would be easy to express his hatred of the Headmaster.

Oh yes, Harry Caliga was _definitely_ looking forward to receiving his Hogwarts letter.

)-(

A bit over two years later found Harry at King's Cross station in London. It was September 1, 1991, and Harry was on his way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, from where the Hogwarts Express would be leaving in thirty minutes, at eleven o'clock.

Harry had lived the last two years with the Dursleys, after his parents had been Kissed. The eleven-year-old had hated every second of the time he had spent at Privet Drive, and not only because of his relatives. The Dursleys hated him and his "freakishness", sure, but they never went any further than verbal abuse. They did not starve him, nor physically harm him in any way.

No, Harry's hatred had been all because of the man who had retrieved him from the Caliga residence the day following the article in the _Prophet_. When Albus Dumbledore had appeared in the house where Harry had been in the middle of reading a book on various magical creatures – including Dementors – the youngest Caliga had been far beyond enraged. In fact, Harry had acted in a downright murderous way, attempting to attack the older wizard even though he did not possess a wand. Dumbledore, shocked by the boy's behaviour, had had to Stun the child before he had been able to take him to Privet Drive. Harry had then regained his consciousness in a totally alien room. Once he had found out what had happened, he had locked himself in his new room for three days, refusing to eat or drink. He had only left the room to go to the loo, and even that only once per day. Needless to say, the Dursleys had not minded this in the least. Harry had spent the time to plot revenge on Dumbledore, but had not come up with anything doable. In the end, Harry had decided it would be cleverer to somewhat hide his hatred, and make it less obvious.

When Harry's Hogwarts letter had arrived in July, the eleven-year-old had used the owl that had delivered it to send his reply. His parents had taken him to Diagon Alley a couple times, so Harry knew how to get there. He got his uncle to drive him to Charing Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron was located. Then, after making sure his scar was hidden behind his fringe, Harry had entered the pub. Since he had lacked a wand, he had asked the landlord to let him through the brick wall. Tom had been only too happy to help the boy, although he had not realized just who he was.

The first building Harry had visited had been Gringotts. He had received a letter from the bank, informing him he was the sole beneficiary of both the Potter and Caliga lines. Along with the letter he had received his keys to the two vaults he had inherited. A goblin had taken him to the two vaults, and Harry had been astonished by the sheer amount of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts he had. The Potter vault was by no means empty, but it was nothing compared to the Caliga vault, which was literally full of gold, silver, bronze and various artifacts. Harry withdrew a moderately small amount of money for his first year, figuring he would not have to worry about money for several decades.

His next stop had been at Madam Malkin's, where he had met another first-year; a pale boy with platinum blond hair. Harry immediately recognized him as a Malfoy; the hair was unmistakable. His parents had made sure he was aware of the most important pure-blood families, and the Malfoys were certainly among them.

The boy had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy, and then been surprised to hear Harry's name. He had heard of the Caligas, but he had not known they had a son of his own age. Harry had not bothered explaining about the blood-adoption, let alone his original identity, assuming it would only have brought him more unwanted attention.

At Flourish and Blotts, the book shop, Harry had purchased more than just his required school texts. He was an avid reader, and had already run out of books to read at Privet Drive. He did not have a library card, so he could not get new books that way. The saleswitch had looked at him rather oddly when he had carried his huge stack of books to the counter, but thankfully refrained from commenting. After Harry had paid for his books, she had cast two charms on them; one to make them almost weightless, and another to shrink them so that they fit in Harry's pocket. She had also told him the charms could be cancelled by touching the books with a wand. Harry had thanked her and exited the shop, only one thing left on his list of required items: a wand.

Mr. Ollivander had been somewhat creepy with his unblinking stare and mysterious voice. He had seemed to know everything about Harry, but said he would not reveal the secrets to anyone. All in all, he had talked quite a bit while going through dozens of wand candidates for Harry. The eleven-year-old had gotten a bit frustrated as the pile of "incompatible" wands had grown and grown. It was with no small amount of relief that he finally tried out a twelve-inch ash wand that had a Phoenix feather core. The moment Harry's fingers closed around the wand, purple and turquoise sparks burst out, and Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands. He had then told Harry the combination of ash and a Phoenix feather was rather unusual, though not unheard of. The shop had not sold a single wand with that particular combination in over fifty years. Harry thought the wood and core rather fit each other; Phoenixes "died" by burning into ash, and then returning to life as a fledgling.

After taking the Knight Bus back to Privet Drive Harry had buried himself in his new texts, determined to read through them before the school year would begin. That would give him a head start, which would help him with his goal of being a top student. Aurora and Demetrius Caliga (thinking about them still hurt) had been highly ambitious people, and Harry had decided to follow their example.

So, by the time September rolled around, Harry Caliga had been very ready to leave for Hogwarts.

The railway station was crowded, and it took Harry some time to get to the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Thanks to his parents' thorough explanation a few years earlier, Harry knew exactly how to get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Confident in his knowledge, Harry did not run through the barrier, but instead simply leaned against the wall once he was sure no Muggles were looking in his direction.

The Hogwarts Express, with its scarlet steam engine, was even more gorgeous than Harry had thought. He made his way toward the train as quickly as he could, not wanting to see other students saying goodbye to their families. That wound was still a bit raw, though mostly scarred.

Harry easily found himself an empty compartment, and settled down. He let Hedwig out of her cage so she could stretch her wings, then pulled out one of the "extra" books he had bought at Flourish and Blotts and began to read. It was a rather thick tome on the Gray area of magic; that which was considered neither Light nor Dark. Harry did have books on the Dark Arts, but he knew it would have been stupid to read such a book in the Express. No, those books would only leave his trunk when he was alone.

Not ten minutes after Harry had started reading, the compartment door slid open. Harry looked up, and was unsurprised to see it was a boy he did not know.

"Um, do you mind if I sit here?" the other boy asked, his ears almost as red as his fiery hair.

"Nope," replied Harry, and returned to his reading. "As long as you let me read in peace; I'm not a big conversationalist."

The redhead said nothing, and quietly took a seat across from Harry, who had made sure his scar was not visible.

The next thirty minutes passed in silence; Harry reading his book, and the other boy playing with his pet rat. Hedwig kept an eye on the rodent, but knew better than to attack. She had never suffered from hunger, and even if she had, she would not eat other humans' pets.

Harry had just finished reading chapter two of his book, when the door opened again. This time is was someone whom Harry knew: Draco Malfoy. The blond boy stepped in without invitation, but Harry could not bring himself to care. His first encounter with the Malfoy had been quite pleasant, after all.

"Hello, Malfoy," said Harry with a small smile, "it's nice to see someone I actually recognize."

"Hello to you too, Caliga," replied the blond, and then, glancing at the redhead, continued, "May I ask why you're sitting with a Weasley?"

Weasley? The name rang a bell... ah, yes; the Weasleys were the poorest of pure-blood families, and also blood traitors. Harry had been taught quite a lot about pure-blood policies during his years with the Caligas. While Harry did not exactly consider Muggles mere animals, he _was_ of the opinion that magical people were more or less superior to non-magical ones (living with the Dursleys had served to increase his dislike of Muggles). He did not, however, consider Muggle-borns or half-bloods inferior to pure-bloods – they were all magical people, regardless of parentage. All thing considered, Harry was not pleasantly surprised to find out he had been sharing the compartment with a Weasley.

"Because I didn't know who he was," Harry said, and then addressed the redhead, who was now glaring at the pair of them, "If you would go and find yourself another compartment, I would appreciate it."

"Fine," said the Weasley, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "I'll leave, so that you can spend some _quality_ time with Malfoy!" He spat the name as if it were something foul and disgusting. Slamming the door behind him, he left the compartment.

"Blood traitors...," muttered Draco angrily, before turning back to Harry. "So, Caliga, what's with your appearance? I know for a fact no one in the family looks anything like you."

Harry, who had returned to his book, sighed. Meeting the other boy's curious gaze, he explained, "I wasn't born a Caliga. My birth parents were killed when I was a baby, and I was then found by Aurora Caliga. She took me to her home, and she and her husband raised me as their own. Later, when I was seven, and old enough to understand, they asked me if I would object to being blood-adopted. I had nothing against it, so they performed the ritual. I'm sure you know how blood-adoption works."

Draco nodded, clearly interested. "But if the Caligas weren't your biological parents, then what was your original last name?"

That was something Harry didn't want to reveal... but he knew it would come out sooner or later – the scar on his forehead was a dead giveaway. "Well, I guess you'd find out anyway... I was born a Potter."

"Potter? But that means you have to be –" the blond began, putting two and two together.

Harry cut him off. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter. I hope you're not one of those irritating hero-worshippers I have had the misfortune to come across," he said, his tone making clear he meant what he said.

"Malfoys aren't like that," Draco informed him a bit indignantly. "That Weasley boy, however... he wouldn't have stopped staring at you, had he found out," he continued with a smirk. "He'd probably have asked for an autograph, or at the very least wanted to see your scar."

Harry snorted in disgust. "I find it rather disturbing how people are so fascinated about that night... I mean, my parents were _murdered_, by the Dark Lord himself. How I survived is anyone's guess."

"How about Hogwarts, and the Houses?" Draco changed the subject to something more pleasant. "Where do you think you're going to end up in?"

"I honestly have no idea," replied Harry. "I've heard that my birth parents were both in Gryffindor, but what I've heard about that House... no thank you. As for Mum and Dad, they were in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively. Based on what they've told me, Gryffindor and Slytherin are something like the "extreme" Houses; one the House of Blatant Favouritism and the other the House that three quarters of the school hates. So to me, Ravenclaw sounds like the best option. What about you?"

"Everyone in my family's been in Slytherin," said Draco with obvious pride. "I'm sure I'll be placed there, as well. If the Hat tries to put me in Gryffindor, I'm going to hex it beyond repair!"

Harry grinned at the blond's obvious loathing of Gryffindor. "What about the other two Houses?"

"Well, Ravenclaw wouldn't be _that_ bad, but Hufflepuff is definitely out of question."

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see, huh?"

"I guess..."

)-(

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was worthy of its name; the hall was enormous. Harry approximated that the Dursleys' kitchen, living room and master bedroom would have easily fit in the room.

As Professor McGonagall led the first-years into the Hall, the level of noise threatened to deafen Harry. There were four long House tables at which the second through seventh-years sat, and a fifth table, facing the House tables, for the teachers. Harry spotted Dumbledore sitting at the middle of the Staff table, and felt his expression morph into one of hatred. With a great deal of concentration the first-year managed to turn the furious scowl into a mildly annoyed expression, but by the time he managed that Professor McGonagall had stopped, and the Sorting Hat had begun its song.

Harry had been informed of that oddity, and was quite bored when the Hat sang and sang and sang. _Seriously... the ghosts were much more interesting than this._

Finally the Hat finished, and received a thunderous applause. Professor McGonagall pulled out a scroll of parchment and addressed the first-years, "When I call your name, you will come forward, sit on this stool and place the Hat onto your head. Abbott, Hannah!"

A blonde girl with pigtails and pink cheeks stumbled forward.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" declared the Hat, and Hannah headed toward the now cheering yellow and black Hufflepuff table.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat again.

A couple names later: "Caliga, Harry!"

Harry stepped forward, sitting on the stool with the Hat on his head. Never before had he been more grateful for having been blood-adopted; no one had connected him with Harry Potter. Well, Draco had, but he kept his mouth shut.

_"Hmm... interesting, very interesting indeed,"_ said the Hat in Harry's mind. _"Where should I put you? Not Hufflepuff... or Ravenclaw... but you could do well in both Gryffindor and Slytherin..."_

_Please don't put me in Gryffindor,_ Harry thought to the Hat. _I don't want to be in that House._

_"But considering who you are, Slytherin might be dangerous for you. You would be safer in Gryffindor."_

_I don't care if it's dangerous,_ Harry argued silently. _I'd rather be in a possibly non-existent danger than in the House of Blatant Favouritism._

_"Ah, you show courage – worthy of a _GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry wanted to growl in frustration as he headed toward his new Housemates. The Hat had outsmarted him! And they said it was _Gryffindor_'s hat... yeah, sure.

Not bothering to even pretend he was happy to be in Gryffindor, Harry took a seat at the House table and watched as the Sorting continued.

Draco got his wish; the Hat had barely touched his hair before announcing, "SLYTHERIN!"

By the time Weasley was called forward, Harry was getting really hungry. He had not bought anything from the trolley during the train ride, so it was several hours since his last meal.

The redhead was Sorted into Gryffindor as well, which did nothing to improve Harry's mood. He once again checked his scar was properly hidden; Weasley finding out his identity was the very last thing Harry needed.

After the Sorting ended with Blaise Zabini becoming a new Slytherin, the Headmaster stood up to speak. Harry could not resist glaring at the old wizard – and that did not go unnoticed by either the students or the staff.

"What're you doing, Caliga?" asked Weasley, obviously still angry with Harry.

"You do have eyes, don't you, Weasley?" Harry quipped, not sparing the redhead a glance.

"That was uncalled for," scolded an older redhead, who Harry presumed was another Weasley. "There's no need to be rude to your classmates, Caliga."

Dumbledore had sat down again, so Harry shot the older boy a glare, but did not bother replying.

And then there was food. All kinds of food; from baked potatoes to roasted beef and shepherd's pie. To his disgust, Harry could not help noticing the first-year Weasley was a real glutton. Obviously all pure-blood families didn't hold etiquette in high regard. Harry himself had been taught all about proper table manners, and he was quite the opposite of Weasley.

Throughout the Feast Harry felt several Professors' eyes on him; they'd probably seen how he'd looked at Dumbledore. Harry met each gaze evenly, refusing to look ashamed or apologetic. He had every reason to hate Dumbledore, even though the other staff members weren't aware of it.

Harry recognized some of the Professors – those who had taught his parents - like McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Kettleburn and Hooch, but others were complete strangers.

As Harry scanned the Staff table, a man wearing a rather hideous, purple turban turned away, so that the back of his head faced Harry. That was when Harry felt a stinging pain in his scar, and slapped a hand on his forehead in agony. The pain was gone as quickly as it had hit, which left Harry confused. His scar had never hurt before, and the briefness of the pain was weird in and of itself.

Unfortunately, several Gryffindors had noticed Harry's odd action.

"What happened?" asked Dean Thomas, who was sitting next to Harry. "Why'd you smack yourself?"

"None of your business, Thomas," said Harry coolly. "But if you _must_ know, I experienced a brief case of headache." It wasn't exactly a lie, but nor was it the truth.

"A headache cannot possibly pass that fast," chimed in a bushy-haired girl. "I've read some basic medicine, and – "

Harry felt a real headache coming on. "Shut up, Granger. Can't you lot just leave me alone? That's all I ask." He lifted his hand away, and glared at his Housemates. However, due to his distraction, Harry forgot to make sure his scar was hidden behind his fringe.

And, of course the Weasley boy had to notice the lightning bolt.

"Hey, what's that on your fore – bloody hell! You're Harry Potter!" the redhead exclaimed, loudly enough for the entire Hall to hear.

"I am not!" Harry hissed, covering the scar despite knowing it was too late. "Did you not hear Professor McGonagall? I'm a Caliga, _not _a Potter!"

His words had virtually no effect. Everyone, including the teachers, had turned to look at him with various expressions. And the whispering began.

At that moment, Harry dearly wished for a Time-Turner, so that he could prevent the idiot boy from blurting out his celebrity identity. But instead of travelling into the past, Harry had to settle for frosty demeanour, and ignoring anything and everything that was said around and about him.

After what felt like an eternity the food finally vanished, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up for the second time that evening. Harry glared at him again, this time with far more irritation and anger.

The Headmaster made various announcements, one of them introducing the new Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Quirrell. He was the man with the turban, and Harry decided to be wary during Defence lessons. He hoped the pain had been a coincidence, but feared that it was something else entirely.

"And now, off you go! Bedtime!" Dumbledore finished his speech. "Prefects, please take the first-years to their dormitories. Sleep tight!"

With a final glare in the Headmaster's direction Harry stood up from the table, and followed the rest of the first-year Gryffindors to Gryffindor Tower. There were several shortcuts and hidden passages along the way, and Harry did his best to remember them.

His bed in the first-years boys' dormitory was nothing short of luxurious. Pointedly ignoring his dorm mates Harry completed his evening routines, changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. Even though he was still furiously angry, it only took him a few minutes to fall asleep behind the red and gold curtains of his four-poster.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes #2: <strong>And so ends the first chapter of_ Unforgivable Kisses_. I hope at least some of you liked the beginning of the story.

The reason the Dursleys were so tolerant with Harry is that I've read too many abuse!Dursleys stories. The three are by no means among my favourite characters, but I felt they still deserved a break from all that cruelness and child abusing.

One more thing: yes, Aurora and Demetrius Caliga both had the Dark Mark. And yes, Harry is aware of that.


End file.
